


Packing

by Erma



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erma/pseuds/Erma
Summary: Just a bit of fun: as Han adjusts to life with Leia after Endor, he learns there can be perks to—how does Leia say it?—respecting local cultural practices. (Originally published on FFN on January 18, 2019.)





	Packing

**Author's Note:**

> All good fun. (I mean, the planet name...? :D ) Enjoy!
> 
> And to a certain three "ambassadors of fic," thanks for suggesting I take this one. :)

### 

**Packing**

-:||:-:||:-:||:-

Han paused inside the room’s entryway, taking in his surroundings as the door closed behind him. The layout, the functional carpet, the few pieces of simple furniture—they were all familiar enough by now. Even so, he still felt a lingering hint of surprise that the end of the day brought him _here_ , not the _Falcon_.

He smirked. He’d get used to it. He already was. And he was loving every minute of it.

Dropping his things on a nearby chair, he headed for the galley— _the kitchen_ , he reminded himself—and poured a glass of water, taking a few big gulps as he loosened the collar of his fatigues. Unlike with his new living arrangements, it was taking a bit longer to get used to the military uniform he was now expected to wear. They told him the thick, coarse material was more durable than regular civilian clothes, but this thing was less breathable than a Mos Eisley cantina, and he just couldn’t _move_ like he could in his standby bloodstripes, shirt, and vest. For a getup that was supposed to be battle ready, it didn’t make much sense if you couldn’t even get to your blaster without—ah well. At least he’d stood his ground and reached the current compromise: he’d wear the thing if he had to be out working with pilots or the troops, but when his training schedule was light, he’d be in his civies. And the brass could grumble all they like.

He snorted as he remembered: he _was_ the brass now. He’d get used to that, too. Probably.

He took one more long drink before setting his glass down on the counter, then made his way to the small room on the left—no, _the study_ —where he figured he’d find Leia. He knew she’d enjoy hearing about the morning’s exchange between Wedge and Madine, as well as the look on Madine’s face when Wedge—

—but the chair in the study was empty. There were a few scattered flimsies and a half full tumbler on the desk, suggesting the chair’s occupant had been interrupted but was still somewhere near. Where was she though? That was another thing he was getting used to: private living quarters— _apartment? cabin?_ —so big you could actually lose someone in them.

He heard a muffled noise further down the hallway, and he stuck his head outside the study room door. “Leia?”

“In the bedroom,” came her reply.

A lopsided grin erupted across Han’s face. A couple of days ago he had arrived to the exact same scene in the study, the exact same call from down the hallway, and after he'd followed her voice to the bedroom… To their credit, they _had_ eventually emerged from the bedroom for dinner... about four hours later…

Gathering all his trademark Solo charm, he slowly—but not _too_ slowly—made his way to the bedroom door, eagerly preparing himself for what he might find. 

He was not disappointed. 

Leia stood at the clothing closet with her back turned towards him. Her freshly washed hair, now smooth and silky, was gathered into a loose braid falling gracefully over her shoulder. Her new robe—the thin, shimmery robe she wore after bathing—draped softly around her body, clinging suggestively to her curves… _that _robe… the one she usually wore... with nothing underneath...__

____

____

With a low growl falling somewhere between predatory and pleasure, Han moved over to her, his hands gently taking her hips and pulling her close. Leia melted into the loose embrace, her hands leaving the activities in the closet to rest on top of his. As Han’s lips began to brush her neck, her eyes drifted shut, his mouth finding that sweet spot, right there...

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?” Han breathed into her skin.

The warmth of his breath and low rumble of his voice was instantly electric. She shivered with delight, managing to answer in her own low tone: “Packing.”

His fingers gently caressed the swell of her hips as his lips proceeded on a journey further down her neck. “That’s nice…”

Leia’s eyes fluttered open at the unexpected response, and a giggle escaped, appreciative of Han’s single-mindedness. As his warm hands continued to trace, slow, languid paths along the sides of her body, she smiled and tried again. “We’ve been called away to attend another celebration of Endor.” 

Han stilled, his fingers pausing their motion. 

She continued. “We’re leaving tonight.”

“We’re…”

“...leaving tonight, yes.” She squeezed the hands beneath hers, encouraging him to continue. 

Taking a deep breath, Han instead disengaged from her, turning to walk to the bed—their—bed. Sitting down on its edge, he leaned back, resting on his hands, and looked at the woman before him. He knew what he was signing up for, getting involved with— _come on: falling hopelessly, head-over-heels-in-love with_ —one of the most high-profile politicians in the galaxy, and he was fine with everything that came along with that. Still, this was also taking some getting used to.

“Okay” he said slowly. “Where we going?”

Leia’s eyes twinkled. “Ulala. Ever heard of it?”

Han thought for a moment. “Outer rim planet, right? Tropical?”

“Yes. Lush jungles, pristine beaches, and clear turquoise oceans.”

Han nodded. “Heard about it years ago, but never went there. Never heard of many smuggling jobs in or out of there. Or much of any trade, come to think of it.”

Leia half shrugged. “I’m not surprised. The Ulalans have worked very hard to keep their world free from over-development or an excess of material goods. Several resort companies have tried to secure new properties there over the decades, but the Ulalans have been firm.” She gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “They highly value their planet’s natural beauty. It’s fairly rustic…”

One eyebrow lifted. “For how long?”

“Two days travel each way, and six days on planet. 

He sighed. “And we're leaving _tonight_?”

“Yes.”

He started planning. “I'm gonna have to let Reikaan know, clear my sche—”

“—I spoke to Carlist shortly before you got home. You're cleared.”

 _Home_. Han’s heart skipped a beat. It was still new, the joy of calling this place—any place, with Leia—home… _Wait a minute_ … His brows furrowed. “You already cleared it with Reikaan?”

To her credit, Leia did look a little contrite. A little. “Yes. You were already in transit, and I needed to discuss a few other matters with him anyways.”

He still wasn’t entirely happy she had talked to Reikaan for him. He pursed his lips. “Why couldn't Mon go? Or Gram, or Edoch, even Kr—”

“—well, Mon had several conflicts, and as for the Ambassadors…” a flush suddenly rose in her cheeks and she glanced away. “..they thought I should take this one.” As if catching herself, she looked at him again, square in the eye. “ _I_ wanted this one.”

But Han only stared at her. “Leia. Look, I know these things are normal for you, but, I’m… Could you at least give me a little more notice next time? Let me clear my own schedule?”

At that, Leia did look genuinely apologetic. “Yes, of course. I just thought, a few days on a remote, tropical planet…”

He looked at her pointedly. “... a few days on a _hot, humid_ , tropical planet, going to formal functions wearing that damned stuffy monkey lizard suit.”

A renewed twinkle appeared in her eyes. “Well, yes.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You _like_ seeing me in uniform.” Leia fought to keep her expression neutral, but her quivering lips gave her away. A slow smirk started spreading across Han’s face, growing quickly to a full grin, as cocky as ever. “So that explains that little trip to the coat closet on the—”

“— _anyways_ ,” Leia interrupted loudly, trying to get their conversation back on track but completely unable to contain her self-satisfied smile, “there's only one function where you'll have to wear the uniform. It shouldn’t be too bad. What’s important is that there’s a second, private ceremony where we will be wearing local, traditional dress, joining the elders in a—”

“— _Leia_ ,” Han warned emphatically, his smirk quickly deteriorating into a scowl. The last time they'd gone on one of these trips and he'd had to dress in local garb, the hosting dignitaries had decided to mix the formal celebration in with a more local celebration. Turns out the locals were in the midst of a special festival season: a festival of the absurd. The more ridiculous costumes, the better. And—the media had been invited. The holos of him dressed in bizarrely gaudy and flamboyant clothing had circulated galaxy-wide, giving him his first taste of the downsides of being in the public eye. It was so bad, even Luke hadn’t been able to bring himself to give Han a hard time about it.

Leia quickly walked to the bed and sat down beside him, knowing full well where his thoughts had gone. “This one's different,” she said quietly, gently intertwining her arm with his. “The Ulalans are very restrictive about entry on planet. There will be no press, no outside visitors except for us, and the private ceremony will only involve about 15 elders.” As Han’s expression began to soften, Leia brought her other hand to softly trace paths along his arm. “It’s a very private ceremony, very special. It’s quite an honor, actually, to be invited to participate in this particular ritual.”

Han glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. Leia usually spoke favorably of all cultures, but there seemed to be a special tone in her voice with this one.

Noting his glance, Leia continued. “In the ceremony, the Ulalans will be symbolically adopting us—and through us, the provisional government—as family of their world. At that point, we are no longer outsiders, and we are free to enjoy the beauty they feel their world has to offer.” She paused, her gaze following her free hand as it drifted down to his thigh, lazily tracing the creases of his fatigue’s fabric. “Then, they arrange for us to stay a few days on one of the more remote islands so that we can come to appreciate the full, natural beauty of their world in solitude and peace.” She looked up at him. “Privately.”

He was now giving her his full attention. “Sounds nice...”

“Yes…” She smiled hesitantly. 

Han took a deep breath. “So. This local costume I have to wear. What’s it look like?”

Leia's lips twitched. “Well, all Ulalan adults wear long coverings for the lower half of the body woven from the fibers of indigenous beach grasses—”

“—we’re wearing grass skirts?”

Leia rolled her eyes. “ _Han_.”

He glared at her. “Just how tightly are these grasses woven together?” His mouth scrunched up. “I can still call Reikaan…”

“Very tightly woven,” she sighed, then added teasingly, “don't worry. Your modesty will be preserved.”

Han snorted. “Lost that a long time ago.” Leia rewarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay. What about the tops?” Vivid images of his festival costume sprang into mind. “Don’t tell me: more of those spiked shoulder thingies that could kill someone if they ran into them—”

“— _No_ ,” Leia said, an unusual smile fighting to emerge. “No. We will be wearing the traditional Ulalan male and female dress. So... you’ll remain bare-chested.”

He looked at her a long moment. “...and you?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Also bare, save for the strategically placed bacaonut shells.”

They looked at each other a long moment, Leia's mouth twitching, Han's slightly agape. Finally, Han managed to respond. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head slowly. Her smile was seductive; her gaze completely serious. 

Suddenly, Han jumped up from the bed and moved to the closet. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, startled at his abrupt change of mood. 

Without looking back at her, he began to hastily pull clothes from the closet, tossing them onto the bed. “Packing!”

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


End file.
